A/N: Wow, I'm flattered by everyone's reviews! Thanks so much! I was so encouraged I got this out in record time. It might have somthing to do with the pickles I ate yesterday and today ^_-.
This part is a little shorter than last part because I want the next part to come out all at once. You'll see what I mean. With a bit of luck I'll have that out soon. Reviews would help me write faster (hint hint!)
Oh yes: I updated a revised copy of the first chapter. At the bottom I typed Dollet when I meant Timber (oops) and there were a few niggling typos I fixed. I'm an anti-typo freak; what can I say?
And I didn't know if Quezacoatl had a gender, so I made him male.
---------------
~Hourglass~
---------------
10:00 AM
(She said)
Why should opening a single door be so hard? It's just metal, I don't even have to physically pull it, just hit the touchpad and it will swing open, the miracle of modern mechanics.
But it's like I'm mired in gel, the air around me turning to water and I'm floundering, buffeted by currents I don't understand. My instincts are going haywire, screaming at me to stop. I do, freezing with my hand inces from the pad, then inching it away slowly, overwhelmed, until the disconcerting rush fades to a trickle I can control. Deep breaths become my friends as I struggle for calm in the anteroom, trying to make no noise to alert the token guard still standing outside the corridor. Why can't I open the door?
I still feel nauseus. I try to grasp the source but it slips through my fingers.
[Change,] Quezacoatl chimes suddenly.
And he's right. I can see it now, it's the same fear I've felt before when change threatened, but worse, so much worse, magnified a thousand times over, almost primal in its intenisty. It's foolish, I can see that, what could opening a door change? Nothing, don't be silly, I've just got to pick up Seifer, that's all. Everything's all right. I'll just open the door.
10:01 AM
(He said)
Sixty seconds stretch into infinity. I know what will happen. She'll open the door with that look in her eyes, that awful sad and disappointed gaze I can't stand. I tried so hard to pass this time, Quistis, please believe me, it's not your fault, you're the only person who ever cared and it made all the difference in the world. I wish I could take back every time I called you mediocre; you don't deserve it. You don't deserve what they've done to you now, either, taking your lisence away; destiny needed you available but that doesn't mean it's any less cruel. If only I had passed. But I couldn't. Liberi Fatali. Is that what it's become? An excuse? Oh, well, sorry, but fate led me here. Right. I never used to even believe in fate. It doesn't matter now anyway. All that is going to change.
I know you're standing out there, I know what's happening to you. I want to help you but my hands are still tied. I may disdain fate but that doens't mean I can mess with it with impunity. Time is such a fragile thing and until the outside world contacts me I can't contact it. And it could all fall apart, right here, right now, if your instinctive fear of change is stronger than your will. Ordinarily it's no contest but you're fragile now, you've been beaten and I don't know if you've recovered yet. I'll protect you, if you come through, no matter what mess I make of things I swear you'll come through all right. I've seen the future. I know what you'll become if things take their natural course. I can change it, and it scares me, the power, knowing that I can make it different. It's what I wanted for so long, but I was too proud to bend, and too proud to see how much you needed me after all, and only after I turned to Ultimecia in desperation did I discover you were within my reach all along. Now our roles are reversed. I have the power and the knowledge but you've got to take the first step.
Just open the door.
10:02 AM
(She said)
As soon as my fingers hit the touchpad I feel the change. Sensation washes over me; the constricted, almost desperate feeling of fear is gone, as if it never was. Instead I feel almost dizzy, like I'm looking over the edge of a tall building and can't see the ground below. Winds are blowing at me from all sides, there are no restrictions. Strongest wind cannot be seen.
He's waiting exactly as I supposed he'd be, sprawled on the room's one bench, leaned back against the far wall, customary smirk firmly in place. The dizziness fades slightly as those jade eyes flick up at me; I know what he'll say even before he opens his mouth.
"Instructor Trepe." Is that warmth sarcastic or real? He stands now, is that meant as a gesture of respect? More likely he's mocking me again as he stretches languidly, showing off an almost catlike grace at odds with his size and bulk. He's stepped closer; the distance is more than polite but it feels so much closer when he teases me softly in a voice I have to strain to hear, "Come to rescue your favorite student, Trepe?"
10:03 AM
(He said)
I'm breathing hard, hoping she doesn't notice. I must keep my wits about me. Words I once said tumble through my head but come reluctantly to my lips; I don't want to follow this script. The phrases mock me, this time; I don't want to toss them at her because I know they'll hurt her, carefully tuned words piercing her inadequate armor, worn down and abraded by years of self-doubt and a recent blow of despair. But in order to come face-to-face with Ultimecia I must. At some point it's not ironic anymore, only cruel. I want to spare her this but I'm already a step too close and the next line is hers anyway.
10:04 AM
(She said)
It's the traditional line, I've heard it a thousand times before. Not in so many words, but the same greeting, the reference to himself as my favorite student. He says it satirically but it's true; wouldn't he gloat if he found out. I'm proud of Squall but he didn't *need* me. Seifer needed me. I failed him. How much more would he taunt me if he knew the truth?
The familiar response leaps to my throat but it seems to get stuck halfway. I'm tired of the same old words, the same old game, it only seems to have one ending and I can never win. I can see what will happen, it's like a movie I've seen too many times before. We'll fence with our words, throwing barbs casually as if they were nothing. Mine will glance off his armor but his will cut deep. And I can't handle it today, of all days, I'm too tired of all of this, too weary to hold my own, too disillusioned to maintain the facade. He'll push me too hard, I'll fall apart. And then he'll leave. Too proud to bend, too self-reliant to deal with others. Gone. Just. Like. That.
I don't want to go down that road.
I don't think I'd survive it. In the long run.
"Trust me, you don't want the kind of rescue I seem to give."
And I don't say it angrily, or sadly. I just say it honestly.
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^^ Reviews please! Feed my creativity!
This part is a little shorter than last part because I want the next part to come out all at once. You'll see what I mean. With a bit of luck I'll have that out soon. Reviews would help me write faster (hint hint!)
Oh yes: I updated a revised copy of the first chapter. At the bottom I typed Dollet when I meant Timber (oops) and there were a few niggling typos I fixed. I'm an anti-typo freak; what can I say?
And I didn't know if Quezacoatl had a gender, so I made him male.
---------------
~Hourglass~
---------------
10:00 AM
(She said)
Why should opening a single door be so hard? It's just metal, I don't even have to physically pull it, just hit the touchpad and it will swing open, the miracle of modern mechanics.
But it's like I'm mired in gel, the air around me turning to water and I'm floundering, buffeted by currents I don't understand. My instincts are going haywire, screaming at me to stop. I do, freezing with my hand inces from the pad, then inching it away slowly, overwhelmed, until the disconcerting rush fades to a trickle I can control. Deep breaths become my friends as I struggle for calm in the anteroom, trying to make no noise to alert the token guard still standing outside the corridor. Why can't I open the door?
I still feel nauseus. I try to grasp the source but it slips through my fingers.
[Change,] Quezacoatl chimes suddenly.
And he's right. I can see it now, it's the same fear I've felt before when change threatened, but worse, so much worse, magnified a thousand times over, almost primal in its intenisty. It's foolish, I can see that, what could opening a door change? Nothing, don't be silly, I've just got to pick up Seifer, that's all. Everything's all right. I'll just open the door.
10:01 AM
(He said)
Sixty seconds stretch into infinity. I know what will happen. She'll open the door with that look in her eyes, that awful sad and disappointed gaze I can't stand. I tried so hard to pass this time, Quistis, please believe me, it's not your fault, you're the only person who ever cared and it made all the difference in the world. I wish I could take back every time I called you mediocre; you don't deserve it. You don't deserve what they've done to you now, either, taking your lisence away; destiny needed you available but that doesn't mean it's any less cruel. If only I had passed. But I couldn't. Liberi Fatali. Is that what it's become? An excuse? Oh, well, sorry, but fate led me here. Right. I never used to even believe in fate. It doesn't matter now anyway. All that is going to change.
I know you're standing out there, I know what's happening to you. I want to help you but my hands are still tied. I may disdain fate but that doens't mean I can mess with it with impunity. Time is such a fragile thing and until the outside world contacts me I can't contact it. And it could all fall apart, right here, right now, if your instinctive fear of change is stronger than your will. Ordinarily it's no contest but you're fragile now, you've been beaten and I don't know if you've recovered yet. I'll protect you, if you come through, no matter what mess I make of things I swear you'll come through all right. I've seen the future. I know what you'll become if things take their natural course. I can change it, and it scares me, the power, knowing that I can make it different. It's what I wanted for so long, but I was too proud to bend, and too proud to see how much you needed me after all, and only after I turned to Ultimecia in desperation did I discover you were within my reach all along. Now our roles are reversed. I have the power and the knowledge but you've got to take the first step.
Just open the door.
10:02 AM
(She said)
As soon as my fingers hit the touchpad I feel the change. Sensation washes over me; the constricted, almost desperate feeling of fear is gone, as if it never was. Instead I feel almost dizzy, like I'm looking over the edge of a tall building and can't see the ground below. Winds are blowing at me from all sides, there are no restrictions. Strongest wind cannot be seen.
He's waiting exactly as I supposed he'd be, sprawled on the room's one bench, leaned back against the far wall, customary smirk firmly in place. The dizziness fades slightly as those jade eyes flick up at me; I know what he'll say even before he opens his mouth.
"Instructor Trepe." Is that warmth sarcastic or real? He stands now, is that meant as a gesture of respect? More likely he's mocking me again as he stretches languidly, showing off an almost catlike grace at odds with his size and bulk. He's stepped closer; the distance is more than polite but it feels so much closer when he teases me softly in a voice I have to strain to hear, "Come to rescue your favorite student, Trepe?"
10:03 AM
(He said)
I'm breathing hard, hoping she doesn't notice. I must keep my wits about me. Words I once said tumble through my head but come reluctantly to my lips; I don't want to follow this script. The phrases mock me, this time; I don't want to toss them at her because I know they'll hurt her, carefully tuned words piercing her inadequate armor, worn down and abraded by years of self-doubt and a recent blow of despair. But in order to come face-to-face with Ultimecia I must. At some point it's not ironic anymore, only cruel. I want to spare her this but I'm already a step too close and the next line is hers anyway.
10:04 AM
(She said)
It's the traditional line, I've heard it a thousand times before. Not in so many words, but the same greeting, the reference to himself as my favorite student. He says it satirically but it's true; wouldn't he gloat if he found out. I'm proud of Squall but he didn't *need* me. Seifer needed me. I failed him. How much more would he taunt me if he knew the truth?
The familiar response leaps to my throat but it seems to get stuck halfway. I'm tired of the same old words, the same old game, it only seems to have one ending and I can never win. I can see what will happen, it's like a movie I've seen too many times before. We'll fence with our words, throwing barbs casually as if they were nothing. Mine will glance off his armor but his will cut deep. And I can't handle it today, of all days, I'm too tired of all of this, too weary to hold my own, too disillusioned to maintain the facade. He'll push me too hard, I'll fall apart. And then he'll leave. Too proud to bend, too self-reliant to deal with others. Gone. Just. Like. That.
I don't want to go down that road.
I don't think I'd survive it. In the long run.
"Trust me, you don't want the kind of rescue I seem to give."
And I don't say it angrily, or sadly. I just say it honestly.
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^^ Reviews please! Feed my creativity!